


First Night in Kharbranth

by JupiterHorizons



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterHorizons/pseuds/JupiterHorizons
Summary: A free-form piece about Shallan Devar's first night in Kharbranth. You should only read this if you are past Ch 8 in The Way of Kings.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	First Night in Kharbranth

**Author's Note:**

> A very self-indulgent rambling of Shallan's first night. Originally meant to have her with Yalb but hey, sometimes a girl needs self-love!

After sending for her trunks to be delivered from _The Winds Pleasure,_ Shallan wasted no time in choosing a bedchamber for herself. The Conclave had housed many a noblewoman in its time, and Brightness Jasnah Kholin had no shortage of rooms.

Her master-servant obediently showed her to several rooms, each with their varied and sundry idiosyncrasies. But there was one that she instantly fell in love with and from the moment she stepped into the chambers she knew this was where she would stay for her apprenticeship.

The room was at the top of a dizzying set of stairs, and was one of the many turrets that comprised the Conclave. Upon entering the room, she spied an ornate bed on the far side of the room, with an exquisite, handcrafted wood frame. There were four posts on each corner to hold up a thin veil of sky blue fabric. It was currently pushed to one side to reveal the ready-made bed with its royal blue silken sheets and pillows. The wall adjacent to the bed had a full length mirror that was as long as the bed itself.

Despite Jasnah Kholin's apparent disdain for the feminine arts, the wall next to her wardrobe also appeared tastefully anointed with a painting that displayed a rustic scene, with a log cabin astride a stone well. It was quaint, albeit somewhat banal, with its subject matter leaving much to be desired.

Across from the bed was a large window, juxtaposed with matching blue curtains. Shallan immediately crossed the room and threw open the curtains.

She gasped aloud at the breathtaking view before her of Kharbranth. Throughout the city were windows lit with varying colors of gemstones - mostly clear, but some lavender and even topaz squares of light shone like beacons in the gathering darkness. There were a few people milling about on the streets - but for the most part, everyone had sheltered indoors. Beyond the city, the sea's horizon reflected the vibrant sunset, a tapestry of red and orange that cast Kharbranth in its crimson glow.

Yes, this was definitely going to be her room.

Shallan dismissed her master-servant after a few perfunctory remarks to arrange logistics for her trunk to be delivered. The master-servant had a hot bath drawn for her in the adjoining room, which she took with much gratitude. Six months at sea had not been easy for a woman of her stature - and seawater baths provided a poor substitute for the luxury of hot, fresh spring water. She wasted no time disrobing from her tight Vorgin dress - as fashionable and modest as it was, its confines had left her feeling the grime and sweat from just one day of walking about in the city.

The washroom was just as ornate and well-anointed as the bedchambers had been. There were linens hanging on gold hooks by the wall, and cloth lined all the way to the bath tub to insulate her feet from the cool white tiles. There was a small golden shelf built into the wall with a white, ovular bar of soap. The bathtub itself was enormous - its deep, porcelain walls were probably large enough to fit two people. Her realization made her blush despite herself. Shallan shook her head as though it would rid her of the filthy thoughts that roamed in the back of her mind like windsprens tumbling in the breeze.

With a relieved sigh, she sank into the bathwater and allowed it to envelope her in its soothing warmth. Witnessing her Brightness soulcast had truly been an awe-inspiring experience - but one that left her far too dirty for her liking. She grabbed the soap bar from the shelf, nearly dropping it. It was much smoother and far more refined than she was used to.

Her tense muscles relaxed, her troubles seeming to float away like the grime and soot that had coated her skin. As Shallan began to scrub gently at her skin, she reminisced on today's events. No less than 2 hours ago she had been in a state of turmoil, certain that her family was doomed to a life of financial ruin. Now, she was the esteemed ward of the king's sister - one of the strongest Soulcasters in the country.

Joysprens gathered around her, lapping playfully at the tub and playing with each other in the water. She had seen less and less joysprens as she had gotten older and as her stresses and worries had grown - but as a child, playing in the woods with her brothers, it had not been uncommon for her to have at least a dozen joysprens in tow. Today, she had commandeered a respectable half-dozen joyspren. Their bright yellow-orange spirits danced along the sides of the tub with one another, emitting high pitched giggles that were too faint to go beyond these washroom walls.

And all it had taken was one more try. She smiled to herself, working the soap into a fine lather in her auburn red hair. Truly, she was lucky that Captain Tozbek had sent her with Yalb, and not with any other crewmember. Without Yalb's encouragement, as paganistic as he was, she would not have gathered enough courage to ask the Brightness for another chance.

Their chance interactions had changed her - for the better. Never before would she have thought that she could have mustered the audacity to stand up to a conman of a book merchant, for instance. She also wouldn't have dared to even return to Brightness Jasnah Kholin again after her initial rejection. But there was something about Yalb that awoke her inner strength in a way no one else ever had.

Perhaps it was the way Yalb carried himself. He was a bold one, even amongst Thaylens, but his lazy contentedness with life seemed to exude confidence. He didn't care that he was cheating the guardsmen - in fact, he seemed thrilled with the sheer risk of it.

Plus, like most Thaylens, he walked virtually shirtless - only a loose, open-front vest provided him with less-than-decent covering. She sank back into the tub and closed her eyes, picturing him with near-perfect clarity afforded to her as one gifted in the visual arts. His bronzed skin, the way he threw back his broad shoulders when he laughed gaily, and how each breath puffed out his chest and emphasized the glistening muscles he had built over years of working at sea.

Shallan found herself breathing heavily - her heart had started racing even though she had hardly moved a muscle. She could feel a hazy, slumbering warmth blossoming from her nether regions. She shifted uncomfortably in the tub, knocking over some joyspren in the process, who began to play in the water unabated.

This small shift caused the water to roll between her thighs in a gentle wave that made her shiver, despite the heat, and instinctively shut her legs. She recognized this feeling - the Urges, as her tutor had called them. After she had entered adolescence, her tutor, a stringent adherent of the Veden Church, had told her that the Urges would beset her for the remainder of her life. When asked what she should do to relieve herself of the Urges, the tutor had simply answered that she must ignore them until she is properly wed.

Shallan had spent many a sleepless night in bed, tossing and turning and unable to get rest because of the Urges that overtook her. Sometimes it would happen after she had seen something unseemly - like the stable-boy taking off his shirt when he thought no one was looking. Lately, the Urges started after interacting with handsome men - especially ones like Yalb, who spoke so easily with his sweet tongue and honeyed words.

She shook her head again as though that would clear it - and to her credit, some joyspren did flutter off her hair and began to frolic in the bathtub. For a moment it seemed that they turned a deep orange, not unlike the sunset, but she blinked and they were back to their golden-orange hues.

Shallan started to wash her left arm, focusing on tracing the line of her muscles with the smooth, rounded bar. There was a certain delicateness to a lady's arm, one that she always sought to emphasize in her sketches and doodles. She watched as bubbles of soap gathered in the recesses between her fingers of her safehand, then transferred the soap bar and performed the same actions to cleanse her right arm.

It was strange, she thought to herself, as the lather worked its way into her pale skin. Aside from the chiral placement of fingers, the safehand was really no different from the woman's freehand, yet it was still subject to so many rules. No man had seen her safehand since she entered adolescence - that privilege was to be bestowed upon her first husband, assuming nothing terrible happened to her before her wedding night. There were some women - heretics - who abstained from covering their safehand even with a glove. These women were mostly of loose morals, and worked in the brothels and underground pleasure domes of society - but they existed nonetheless, making their living off of bawdy sailors, unscrupulous merchants, and even the occasional nobleman.

She wondered if Yalb had ever entered a brothel. Did he have a girl in every port? Someone to call upon when he was lonely and seeking a warm bed to share?

The joyspren began to turn a faint green, reflecting the envy that was stirring inside of her. She began to scrub harder at her skin, lifting her right leg out of the tub to get an even scrub. What kind of girl did he prefer? She wondered, watching the bar slip down her shin, undulating over her knee and down her thigh. Maybe he liked the full-chested women, those who could fill their bodices unlike her. Did he prefer the darkeye girls, with dark onyx hair? Or would he go for brighteyes, like hers? Her auburn red hair was a sign of impurity in her bloodline, but he seemed not to mind earlier when he was looking at her.

His words echoed in her head. _You look good from any side, young miss, that you do._

Lost in her thoughts, Shallan barely registered the mischievous joyspren pushing on her hand until she felt the bar of soap sliding between her thighs.

" _Oh!"_ The warmth bloomed again, sending the Urges through her being. Shallan let out a plaintive moan, arching her back at the sensation. Her heart was beating like she had run across the city, and her body felt as though it was _aching_ with need like never before. 

What was happening to her?

The culprit joyspren tittered away, giggling even as she swatted at it for its impudence.

She instinctively closed her legs, bringing her knees up to her chest. That proved to be an even worse (or better?) idea - as a wave of water rolled between her thighs and massaged her. Once again, the Urges sparked within her, but not nearly to the same extent as before.

Around her, the half-dozen burnt-orange joyspren were chattering in an unknown language. She felt them pulling, tugging at her arm - the one that still held the seemingly-innocuous soap.

Shallan felt herself licking her lips. Strange, she had just taken meal in her room - and yet now she felt something akin to ravenous hunger.

A small voice in the back of her head insisted that she stop this madness. End her bath now and deal with the Urges as you always have - ignoring them.

But that voice was the old Shallan - the one she left behind in the countryside of Jah Keved. Back then, she wouldn't have dared to try indulging the Urges. Back then, she had thought (foolishly) that her tutor and her father had the supernatural ability to _know_ when she was misbehaving - she had been caught so many times before sneaking food or staying up past curfew. But now, there was no one watching her every move, judging whether she was developing into a proper lady. Her father was dead, her tutor long gone, and the fate of the household rested on her tiny shoulders.

With newfound resolve, she gripped the soap bar in her safehand, positioning it just above her womanhood. Tentatively, she brought the bar down her nether regions in a slow, purposeful motion.

It glided gently down, sliding over the pink sphere that preceded her folds. The sensation sent an involuntary shiver throughout her body, possessing her in its heat.

"Ah! Oh…" She couldn't help the groans that bubbled up her throat, could hardly recognize her own voice making these unseemly sounds.

Her first stroke was swiftly followed by another, and another.

The joyspren glowed a deep red now, nearly crimson. They seemed to squeal with delight and latched onto her wrist as she plunged her safehand down into the water, again and again.

She must have made a wanton sight, her hips thrusting up in time with her hand, the water tossing and roiling with her fervent motions. One of the lustspren, as she was calling them now, flew to her breast and clung to her nipple, provoking a frenzied cry when it began to suck. With her free hand, she cupped her other breast in her hand and rolled her hardened nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She imagined that it was Yalb grasping her, with his calloused, strong hands.

What sort of lover was he? Her mind wondered at the possibilities. Was he a romantic, gentle and sweet? Or - she quickened the pace, remembering the way he had smirked and winked at her as he left - was he rough and mischievous, seeking to have his way with her?

She could picture it now - his naked, sweltering chest as he towered over her, that arch grin on his face. He would have no trouble holding a small thing like her down. Not that she would struggle against him, except in jest to make him even more excited.

She had never seen a manhood - only depictions in forbidden books that she had peeked at briefly. But she guessed that it would make her feel the way she did now - a delicious aching that was both agony and satisfaction all at once.

Another lustspren had dived below the waters, grabbing onto the bar aggressively. Giving a frustrated growl, she reached her freehand down again to swat it away, only to find her forefinger dipped between her folds, guided by the lustspren.

She didn't think it possible, but the pleasure amplified tenfold. Was this what being a Soulcaster was like, when they drew power from their gems? This well of raw energy, so plentiful, so _overwhelming_ that it was too much for any one body to contain.

She felt herself lift, as though possessed, and plunge her fingers deep into the recesses of her womanhood. This, in combination with her stimulation, proved just enough to drive her careening over the edge.

For the first time in her life, she took the Almighty's name in vain and cried out to him, the Heralds, and to any blasphemous gods that were listening and invoked them all at once. Waves of pleasure radiated through her body. It was as though she were floating in mid-air, suspended in a state of pure rapture. Stars floated at the corners of her vision, like an incipient galaxy newly unlocked.


End file.
